Oliver’s Quidditch Secret
by MusikLuver
Summary: COMPLETE Ever want to know why Oliver Wood's so Quidditch obsessed? Here's my interpretation of why...I think it's sweet. I guess you'll have to RR to tell me!


**Oliver's Quidditch Secret**

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing!

Little Oliver Wood gazed up at his Grandfather, beaming.

Clutching his toy broom, he scampered over to his Grandpa laughing playfully.

"That's great, Ollie," his Grandpa assured him, patting his back.  "You've just learned the basics of flying.  Would you like to hear another story about my Quidditch games?"

Oliver brushed back his shaggy chestnut hair, and shook his head.  "I wanna _fly_, Grandpa!" he exclaimed in a little voice, clapping his hands in delight.

Leo Wood, Oliver's grandpa, shook with laughter.  "Alright.  Hop on, then!"

Oliver Wood settled his toy broom on the ground, and forcefully said "Up!"  He giggled when the broom flew into his hands.

Looking up at his Grandpa, who nodded, he threw a leg over the side of the broom.  Hesitantly, he nudged the broom up, making it go in circles around his Grandpa.

Oliver squealed with delight as it went faster…just a bit, but still faster.

He made it go up and down in little squiggles, and more laughter followed this.

"Oliver!  Come in, dear!  It's getting late!" his mother, Margaret, called from inside the house.

Oliver frowned, and glanced back at his Grandpa.  He nodded in response, and crestfallen, Oliver hopped off his broom, and trudged up to the house for dinner.

~*~

Two years later, when he was seven, he was sitting by the fire watching the snow fall.

"Ollie, it's time for your nap," his Grandfather called, poking his head through the door.

Oliver huffed, and glared at his Grandfather.  "Don't wanna!"

"I'll tell you about one of my games," he bribed him.

Oliver perked up a little and this, and grudgingly stood up, taking off his maroon little robe.

Some minutes later, Oliver was tucked into bed, gazing up admiringly at his Grandpa, who settled into the chair next to the bed.

"We were playing against our biggest competitors for the World Cup," Leo began carefully.  "Oh, it was a grand old time!  I was hovering near the hoops, watching out for Alexander, the Chaser for his team."

Oliver nodded sleepily, determined to stay awake.  He wanted to absorb as much as he could, because his Grandpa promised to teach him when he turned ten.

"We were up, but only by ten points, and Jackson, our Seeker, was having a hard time seeing in the rain.  But he was tough, and kept on going.  Well," his Grandpa started, before pausing to cough, "we were very anxious to have him find it as quickly as possible, because by then, we were twenty points down."

Oliver gasped a bit, hoping the story wouldn't end badly.  In all his years, his Grandpa had never told him this story.

Alexander was coming up, and this time I blocked the Quaffle, still waiting for Jackson to find it.  Suddenly, our Seeker saw it, and dived.  Of course, the other team's Seeker had seen him do that, so he was right on his tail."

Oliver clutched his blankets in his tiny fists, eyes wide.  He knew the basics of the game.

"Finally, to our relief, Jackson caught it!  All of the sudden, people jumped up in the stands, cheering like mad!  Our mascots came out, and did their little dances," his Grandfather concluded.

Oliver laughed, smiling widely.  "Way to go, Grandpa!" he cheered.  Even though it had essentially been the Seeker had won the game, Oliver was proud his Grandfather had blocked all those would-be goals.

"Have a nice rest, Ollie," Leo said finally, kissing his forehead.

"You too, Grandpa!"

Leo laughed, ruffling Oliver's hair.  "I will," he promised, even though he had no intentions of going to sleep.  "I will."

~*~

Margaret and Kevin Wood watched proudly, beaming, as Oliver zoomed around on his Cleansweep 7.

"Look at me!" he yelled loudly, nudging the broom to go even faster.

His Grandpa waved cheerily from beside Oliver's parents.  "Way to go, Ollie!"

It was Oliver's first try on a broom.  Well, a real one, anyway.

"I guess we'll be throwing away that toy broom, then," Kevin Wood whispered to his dad and wife.

"No, don't.  You'll want to keep it, I promise," Leo Wood informed his son.  "Let him have his memories."

Margaret nodded in agreement, clutching the toy broom in her hands.  "I agree."

It was Oliver's eighth birthday, and Leo had convinced his son and daughter-in-law to finally get Oliver his first real broom.

"He'll be eight.  He's outgrown that toy.  He needs to learn how to fly," Leo had protested, putting on a childish look.

Margaret had sighed, looking at her husband warily.  "Fine," she had agreed exasperatedly.  "We'll get him his new broom."

"Top of the line," Leo had added, shaking a finger.  "Here, here's some of my money.  I'll buy him something else."

"No, I really think you should get it for him, Dad," Kevin had said.

Leo had shaken his head, shoving the coins into their hands.  "Just put my name on the tag."

~*~

Oliver looked at his Grandfather, anticipating the first lesson.

"Come _on_," he urged, pulling his Grandpa's hand.  "I wanna learn!"

"Ok, ok," Leo chuckled in mock surrender.  "So, what position are you interested in playing?"

Oliver didn't wait one moment.  There was no hesitation as he blurted out, "I want to be a Keeper, like you!"

Both his Grandpa and him beamed, and hugged.

"That's great, Ollie.  You'll be a natural, I just know it!  After all, it's in your blood," Leo said, nudging Oliver.  "Must skip a generation, though," he added.  In a low voice he continued, "Your dad doesn't have a lick of talent for flying like you do."

Oliver giggled, enjoying the secret Grandpa had just shared with him.  "I won't tell," he promised Leo, even though it hadn't been a question.

Leo sat down in the grass, taking out his wand to gaze at it.  Finally looking up, he smiled at Oliver.  "The main thing you have to know is you have to keep this," he began, conjuring a Quaffle into his hands.  A trunk full of different assortments of balls appeared.  "This is a Quaffle.  You have to keep it from these two hoops."

With that sentence, Leo waved around his wand, and three miniature hoops popped out of the ground.

Oliver stared in amazement.  He had never seen Grandpa do magic before!

"Wow," he breathed, staring at the different components of Quidditch.

"And this, is a Snitch," Leo continued, smiling at the sight of Oliver.  His chocolate eyes were wide and glazed over.

"Seekers have to look for this, and catch it.  It's worth a _lot_ of points, and usually, wins the game for you."

Oliver nodded, taking it all in.

"The two Beaters use this club, and beat this thing right here," Leo continued still, holding up one of the two wriggling black balls.  "It's called a Bludger."

Oliver silently counted in his head how many people had been explained so far.  Four.

"Then, there's three Chasers, who pass this around," Leo concluded, holding up the Quaffle again.

Oliver nodded again, grinning.  "I wish we could try a game…"

"You can."

"I can?" Oliver perked up.  "Where?"

Leo chuckled at Oliver's innocence.  "We seem to have a team in the neighborhood.  Little League, so to speak."

Oliver jumped up.  "Can I sign up?!"

"What a coincidence," Leo stated, looking at his watch.  "There seems to be a sign-up for try-outs today."

Oliver started dancing around in circles, something he didn't do out of habit.  "Let's go!!!!"

Leo grinned, and grabbed Oliver's hand.  "Yes, let's.  Margaret!  Kevin!" he called to Oliver's parents.  "Best of luck, Ollie," he whispered aside to Oliver.

He beamed, and clutched his broom, heart pounding.  He might actually get to play!

~*~

"Oliver Wood," a voice called over the magical loudspeaker.  "I repeat, Oliver Wood."

Oliver jumped up, his heart racing even faster.  After three anxious days, it was finally try-outs!

"Luck," his Grandpa whispered, clapping him on the back.  "You'll do great, Ollie, I know it."

Oliver nodded, gulping.  For the first time in his life, he was nervous.  His parents nodded encouragingly, holding hands.

Everyone was just as anxious as Oliver.

"Let's see what you've got, kid," a big, burly man said, smiling positively.

Oliver swallowed, and soared up high on his Cleansweep 7.

"We're releasing the bewitched Quaffles now," a woman called to him, standing up.

"Ok!" Oliver tried to yell.  Instead, his voice came out as a squeak.  He wasn't very calm at all.

But to his surprise, and the judges' definite amazement, out of the ten tries the Quaffle gave, Oliver blocked nine.

Mercilessly, he had been practicing for the past three days, which seemed to have paid off.  Oliver was a very determined kid.

"Nice," the burly man said finally, when he arrived back on the ground.  "I'm the coach.  I think it goes without question that you've made it, kid."

Oliver stood, rooted to the ground.  "Really?" he asked in a small voice.

The man nodded.  "Name's A.J. Yost."

"O-Oliver Wood, sir," Oliver stuttered, shaking his hand.

"Yeah, I know."

"Oh," Oliver said simply, blushing at his nervousness.

"Practice starts two weeks from Wednesday.  Be there, or consider yourself gone."

It seemed a bit harsh, but all Oliver didn't care.  He had made the team!

Wringing his hands, he stepped out to the room where his parents and grandfather were.

"Well?" Leo asked anxiously, mirroring Oliver's hand movements.

Oliver bit his lip, looking down, pretending he had just received crushing news.  "I really don't want to talk about it," he said, clenching his fists.  He had to fight the smile back.

Leo's head dropped, along with his parents'.

Beaming suddenly, he said, "I want to YELL about it!  I GOT IN!" he shrieked, ignoring the bewildered looks the wizards and witches in the room gave him.

"Oh, Ollie, I _knew_ you could do it!" Leo Wood exclaimed, enveloping Oliver in a hug.

"Oh, move, Dad!" Kevin Wood exclaimed through laughter.  He, too, hugged his son, beaming proudly.

All Margaret Wood could do was fan her face, joyful tears streaming down her face.  "That's so excellent, Oliver, darling."

"Practice starts two weeks from Wednesday," Oliver told them, muffled through the bear hug.  "If I'm not there, I'm kicked off the team."

Breaking away, he sent his parents a stern look.  "So I _don't_ want to be late!"

Mrs. Wood laughed, wiping away a tear.  "Of course not, darling," she said, hugging him shortly.

~*~

Oliver Wood trudged into the kitchen, muddy and dirty.

"Go wash up," Mrs. Wood said sternly, eyeing her filthy son.  "They should have just called off practice.  Honestly, it's _pouring_," she exclaimed, gesturing to the window.

"I don't mind, mum," Oliver replied excitedly.  "It was so fun, flying around in the rain!  I was one of the ones who begged to keep practice on!"

Mr. Wood chuckled, closing his copy of _The Daily Prophet_.  "Seems you've got a love for Quidditch, son."

Oliver nodded, and turned for the stairs.  "Where's Grandpa?  I want to tell him all about it."

"Oh, he went to the doctor's," Mrs. Wood answered, turning back to the dinner.  "My, a house elf would be so helpful…Well, be quick about that bath, Oliver dear, dinner's almost ready.  Be sure to tell us all about your upcoming competition at dinner!"

He nodded, and jogged up the stairs.

After being on the team for two years, he had finally been elected "Captain".  It felt good, and he couldn't wait to tell Grandpa Leo.

~*~

"Ollie, come on down!" Leo called to his grandson, clutching the owl gently.

Oliver ran down the steps, skipping a few in his excitement.  "Is it about the team?" he asked excitedly.

"No, even better."

Oliver scratched his head, unsure of what could possibly be better.  "Like _what_?"

The owl finally released the envelope it had been clutching in his claws.

"This," Kevin answered, catching the falling letter.  "Open it, son."

Oliver snatched the letter, a bit selfishly.  "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly.

_Oliver Wood_ it said in sparkling letters.  It included his address, down to the very room he resided in.  _The second window from the right, with the Quidditch curtains_.

"This is a little creepy," Oliver said, looking doubtfully at the letter.  He knew he lived in the magical world, but the accuracy frightened him.

Hesitantly, he opened the envelope, and out fell an acceptance letter.  Behind it, was a list of supplies.

"Hogwarts?" he asked, reading the letter.  "Oh!" he exclaimed, remembering the school his parents had told him of.

"We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow for the supplies," Margaret said excitedly.

~*~

"How are we going to know what House we'll get in?" Oliver asked the boy with red hair.

"My brother told me there was some Hat.  But I don't know, the idea seems ludicrous.  I'm Percy.  Percy Weasley," the boy introduced himself.

"Oliver Wood," responded.  "Well, a hat doesn't sound that bad."

Moments later, the stiff old woman who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, strode into the hall they were waiting in, and ushered them into the Great Hall.

"Listen for your names," she hissed, before striding over to the stool, picking up a parchment.

"Pray you don't get Slytherin," Percy whispered, as they neared his name.  "Bill told me they were horrible.  Gryffindor's best."

Oliver nodded, his hands clammy, as "Weasley, Percy" was called.

Seconds later, the Hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"Wood, Oliver!"

Oliver strode up to the stool, trying to look calm.

"_Ah, I see courage.  There's no doubt about that.  But there are the qualities that make you good for Hufflepuff…"_ a voice whispered into his ear.

Oliver wished his parents had told him more about the school.  "_Please, not Hufflepuff.  I want to be in Gryffindor,_" he pleaded inside his head.

The Hat seemed to agree, so it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Loud clapping rose from the table he assumed were Gryffindors.

He sat next to a pretty First Year, whose name was Katie Bell.  "Hi," he said, smiling apprehensively.

"Hello, Oliver."

Percy smiled at him, from across the table.

~*~

Oliver clutched in his hands his Grandpa's response to his acceptance on the team.

_Ollie,_

_You made Keeper!  I just knew you would!  I must say, though, the team at home is suffering.  I'm only kidding._

_Wow, we're all so proud!  In your Second Year, no less!_

_Do well, and block a goal for me,_

_Grandpa Leo_

Katie Bell hugged him fiercefully.  "We made it!" she squealed with delight.

~*~

"Grandpa Leo's just died, son," Mr. Wood said softly, when Oliver had found them from off the train.

Oliver Wood looked up at his parents, shaking his head.

He was numb with shock.  No way.  Grandpa was a fighter.  He wouldn't die now, would he?  After all, Oliver had just finished his Second Year!

"No," he responded quietly, wiping his eyes.  He pinched his arm, shaking his head quickly.  "You're lying!" he said more loudly, attracting stares.

Mrs. Wood wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, and turned away.  "We need to go home now, darling."

~*~

Oliver gazed down into the casket containing the one man who taught him Quidditch.  The one man who had taught him how to fly.

He didn't bother to wipe the tears streaming down his face.  His Grandfather was dead, why should he?

"Grandpa," Oliver croaked hoarsely, his throat burning.  "How could you?  HOW _COULD_ YOU?" he burst, fighting the urge to pummel the casket.

His mother grabbed his hands, shushing him.  "It's ok," she soothed, patting his hair.

Ignoring her, Oliver continued.  "It's not fair!  You just can't be dead!"

Kevin Wood, his dad, ushered his son along, biting his lip.  "It'll be alright, Ollie," he whispered.

Oliver looked up angrily.  "Don't call me that," he said sharply, swiping away a tear furiously.  "Only Grandpa can call me that!"

~*~

"Oliver?" Katie asked, touching his shoulder gently.

Oliver leaned back, revealing the papers he had been furiously scribbling the game plan on.  "I can't believe how good Harry Potter is," he exclaimed excitedly.

"Oliver, it's really time to go to bed," she said softly.

Ever since Grandpa Leo had died, Oliver devoted his entire life to Quidditch.  He hoped it would keep the memory of his grandfather alive.  Close to his heart.

"Why are you so obsessed, anyway?" Katie asked, running a hand through her own brown hair.

"No reason," Oliver answered swiftly, rolling up the plan.  "Just a good sport."

He had also vowed not to tell anyone the real reason behind his obsession.  Not for a while, anyway.

**A/N:** So, how did you like that?  I wasn't sure what year Katie was in, so she's in Oliver's year now.  Lol.

I really wanted to write something about Oliver for once, because Sean Biggerstaff, the guy who plays him, is one of my favorite actors.  Besides, it's a nice change of pace from my usual stories.

So, I really hoped you like it.  I sort of got the idea from Megan, who wrote a story explaining why Draco's the way he is.  Lol, when I thought of this, I suddenly remembered her story, and I figured, might as well mention her.  After all, don't want to be accused of copying.

I really hope not many people (preferably none) have used this exact plot.  I thought it would be a nice, sweet way to explain why Oliver's so obsessed.

And yes, I realized I rushed the end.  But I really have to do my homework.  I just wanted to submit all of this today!  So…forgive me.  I may redo it, and resubmit it, but who knows?


End file.
